


A Couple Clowns

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days you just want to come home, zone out in front of the comedy channel and spend the night telling bad jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Couple Clowns

The hiss of the pressurized door stopper heralded the sealing away all the noise and hot air of the city to that terrible place of suffering 'Outside'. Outside, rival corporations vied for control of the market through handed means of all sorts of vertices. Inside, there was cake, and air-conditioning strong enough to blow the sweat right off your face. Outside, shareholders threw their weight like a psident; business mariners trying to slay the white whale of 'not being the ones actually running this company'. Inside, four pairs of horns could be seen sticking up over the couch in the other room, and the sound of bubbling water resounded down the hall. Jane dropped her hat and coat on the rack by the door, and dumped her shoes beside it. She started on the buttons of her business shirt and headed to the lounge.

Gamzee, is that a friend you've brought?

The tiled entryway transitioned to a carpeted floor. A carpet that required a thorough scrubbing twice a week by the maid, to prevent all the spills and stains gaining complete control of the grounds.

sure did arlecchina, this fine bearded motherfucker was waiting for me atop of the pious hill. it would be a downright rude motherfucker of me not to invite him to my humble hive.

With the last button undone, Jane shrugged off her shirt and the tailored garment fell to a rumbled heap behind her. Inside the lounge, Gamzee had converted the immediate area into his own little den. Faygo bottles lay in a heap beside the couch. Beside them was a tall novelty clown bong, its water already dirtied with use. Two large bowls sat on the table, one filled with a mix of several different soda flavors, the other with chopped hemp. The large, flatscreen Tv that dominated the wall of the room showed a monochrome Abbot and Costello movie, the one with Dracula and the Wolfman, Jane noted.For some inexplicable reason, Gamzee had set the language to Portuguese, and the subtitles to French. His eyes fixed on the glowed screen, he raised the bowl of faygo to his lips with the reverence of Passover, then held it out for his companion to lap at. His companion, scraggly bearded and alien eyed, was as goat as goat could be. Only once it had finished drinking did it see fit to acknowledge Jane's presence with an unimpressed bleat.

Gamzee,

The troll turned to her with a smile. The fuzzy baubles of his conical hat bobbed with the gesture. Save his curly shoes and the pristine majesty of his cod, the highblood troll sat completely naked from the neck down. 

First, this isn't your hive. This is my home. You just show up here. Second, that is a goat.

Is that what this motherfuck of a honkbeast is called these parts?

His painted face dropped into a perfect caricature of astonishment.

he kinda reminded me of my old man, I figured maybe we be two motherfuckers cut from the same pair of spotted laughpants.

Jane crossed her arms over her bra-clad chest and knitted her brow. 

I don't mind you showing up and vanishing as you please, I didn't even mind when you interrupted an important board meeting a work with nine of your buddies in a clown car just to drop off some Chinese and parachute out the window. Actually, that came as quite a relief and the distraction may have saved the company five hundred thousand in a hopeless contract so I'm grateful. Regardless, bringing in strange animals you find is where I draw the line, mister. I'm afraid that goat simply has to go.

The half naked bard considered her words for a full ten seconds, then shifted his face into an almost perfect half-circle frown. 

alright then little arlecchina, that's a fine motherfucking judgment on your part. I can respect that.

He turned to the goat and smiled.

alright then goatbro, it's been a motherfucking pleasure catching up with you. we'll hang at your place next time, not a thing to worry.

The goat gave a bleated grumble in complaint, but clambered off the couch and went to the room that opened up to the balcony. The muffled hush of a glass door being slid open sounded out, followed by a raucous, metallic clash of hooves striking the fire escape.

Did that goat just see itself out?

The troll's only reply was a loud honk followed by a belch.

Well there's a fine miracle for a lass to come home to.

She shrugged in exhausted acceptance and slid out of her pin-stripe pants. Her socks followed, and the shed clothes where kicked back to join her shirt in a pile of discarded cloth.

now that's there be a fine proclamation if i ever did hear one. now on the topic of a ninjette's motherfuck of a hivecoming, i packed you a righteous motherfucker of a pipe for when you got back if it do motherfucking please you.

He swept up from the shadow of the faygo bowl one of her pipes, prepped and eager with tabbaco-mary mix.

Well now, don't mind if I do Mister Makara.

The pipe passed from one hand to another, and was returned to its home in Jane's mouth. She fetched a box of matches from her sylladex, struck one and lit up. After a few quick breaths to make sure the flame stuck, she shook out the match and put it away with the rest of the box.

Meenah was being a simply unbelievable bitch today, and it really is more than I could stand.

While she puffed lightly on her pipe, Jane reached behind her and undid the clasp to her bra. 

She's already the majority shareholder and every month she manages to corner someone else into surrendering another fist full of stocks. If it weren't for having John to back me up I'd be head of Crockercorp in name only. Of course some days he's too busy with his doctorate to make it to all the meetings, then muggins here has to fight tooth and nail to stop that godawful woman from chipping away at my position. She's conniving, greedy, ruthless, and would have just had me assassinated by now if it were only so easy.

Her breasts freed from their formal confines, Jane grunted in relief. Her brassiere is tossed into the pile with the rest of her work clothes. Left only in her curve-hugging panties, she held her head back and rubbed the back of her neck with the hand not holding her pipe.

you sound pretty motherfucking stressed to the blood soaked bones, arlecchina. maybe me and my little thing doing fingers can work a little miracle.

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Gamzee shifted his legs to make a more even lap, and gestured over it like it was a table spread.

Would you? I swear some days its like my muscles might snap just like a rubber band, sending my fists flying straight at her stupid cackling face.

With care to hold her pipe steady, Jane went around the couch and laid down across Gamzee's lap. The arms of the chair were low enough that she could rest her head on it without craning her neck, and her heavy breasts filled the space between Gamzee's legs and the couch's sides. With a bit of wriggling to get comfortable, she let her arms drape besides her head and returned her pipe to her mouth. 

The capricorn troll placed his hands against her back. His fingers were cool to the touch, not just from the aircon, and more than a bit sticky from clumsy handling of soda. He ran his fingers down her spine, sending a shiver through her body, then brought them back up to explore the imprint left in her skin from over several hours bra wearing. With the attentiveness of a braille student he examined the bumps and ridges that spelled out the inverse dimensions of her bra strap.

motherfucking miracle.

With that whisper, he sunk his fingers into her shoulders. The abruptness made her cry out, and fumble to keep her pipe from spilling. He ignored all this, and probed her muscles for knots that he could mercilessly unravel. His bare arms, which had gained a bit more roundness since he started hanging around a baker's house, still gave no hint as to kind of force the highblood could muster. Tolerance for the unpleasant aspect of his relentless needing fast bloomed, and Jane eased herself lost into the sensations of both his hands on her body, and the drug starting to seep into the corners of her mind. He drew a moan out of her, a deep, long sound that started at the front of her chest and ended at the very pit of her lung's depths. She took a long drag on her pipe, curled her toes, and relaxed them. Gamzee pushed and kneaded his way from her shoulders down to the small of her back. His fingers were farmers in tractors, and with them he irrigated the fields of her body into flourishing pastures.

Jane noticed something digging into her soft stomach, just below her navel. With a long puff of her pipe she examined the sensation, soft but firm, and somewhat fuzzy. She weighed up this information, and decided it must be his codpiece.

Hey Gamzee?

yeah, arlecchina?

I can feel your cod poking me.

It took him a few seconds to reply, and although she couldn't see it, Jane could picture the change in the bard's expression. The process itself was slow, but the change itself was sudden. It was like he could never remember what expression he was supposed to make, and had to dedicate some time to figuring it out. He almost never changed expression while talking, he always took a break to shift facial gears. The few times he didn't, he became prone to erratic shouting, and buffered his speech with much more swearing. He simple lacked the mental hands, it seemed, to juggle what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it, and the expression he wanted to say it with all on the fly.

it poking you up in a bad way, sister?

Nah. It's not sore, just something I noticed. It's a bit odd with how firm it is though.

i'm not sure i do get it, but if you say so.

No, really. It's like, just the perfect level of stiffness to be always ambiguous. You could be hard, soft, or al dente in there, and I really can't tell for sure.

that's the miracle of the cod, my big titted ninja.

The miracle of Schrodinger's boner. Hoo hoo.

She laughed into her pipe. 

now who might this schrodinger motherfucker be, and why is he going popping boners all over the place?

Oh, it was a joke. He talked once about a cat in a box that may or may not be poisoned, you can't tell until you look in, so until you open it the cat is both dead and alive. That thing got called Schrodinger's Cat. So your cod's like the box. You could be concrete cracking hard or an overcooked noodle and I can't tell until I get into that cod.

hey, i think i get it. heh, even with the light-robbing science there's still some miracles that stick around.

With one fluid yank, he pulled her panties clean off all the way down her legs. Her knickers were sent flying away, and left her naked behind exposed to the cool, conditioned air. His deceptively strong hand groped her rump, seeking out her gluteal muscles through the softness. 

how would you make a thing like that for some lady-parts though? you could just slap a cod on them, too, and call that a night, but now that hardly seems fair don't you think?

He gave her filled-out cheeks a squeeze, and rubbed his palm across the lips of her slit.

i mean, you got this little miracle nub here,

He brushed his finger against the hood of her clit, scarcely noticing the way she was squirming.

but that be a bit hard to emphasize in the same way. maybe some pelvis huggers with a real nice cameltoe, all plump like a ripe blossom-fruit.

Gamzee, can you please stop. I just want to relax after a long day, at least for now.

Her insistent tone was only slightly undermined by the lazy drawl it had taken on. Gamzee gave her cit one last gentle pinch, but then placed both her hands across her back, away from her naked behind.

I don't suppose my underwear is still near by?

afraid i don't rightly know. maybe a prayer will make finding them easy.

Oh fuck it, I don't care enough.

Her pipe done, Jane sat up and placed it on the table. Once sat back down, she gently nudged Gamzee in the ribs.

Budge up, budge up, let a lass lie down.

now a lie down, that sounds like a right motherfucking idea.

He wrapped his arms around her midsection and pulled her down with him as he fell sideways into the couch, making her squeal with delight. His cod rested between her thighs and he held her close to him, hands on her soft stomach. The Abbot and Costello movie had ended, and in its place had come on some comedy game show with irrelevant scoring.

motherfucking, these guys, now these guys, they just get so much of every thing. all clowns should hope to have the righteous wisdom of these motherfucker.

Gamzee spoke in amazed whispers, his chin nestled in Jane's hair. Jane regarded the screen, which depicted a thin man's pantomime of gradually turning into a nervous lizard.

I'm not sure I get it, but if you say so.

She pressed her back against his chest, feeling his cool skin against hers. His body was slick with sweat and grime and days of neglecting to bath, if not weeks. Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking in his pungent, unwashed musk.

You smell.

She said it with only a hint of complaint. This he considered for several moments, then simply moved one grey hand to his armpit and smeared the fresh secretions across Jane's face.

Oh my god, you are so unbelievably gross!

She turned herself around so she faced him and smothered his face with her breasts in giggling revenge. After just a few seconds, still holding her breasts, she sat up. His surprisingly firm codpiece pressed against her pussy, slightly parting her lips. The light purple of his codpiece stood in stark contrast to the curly black hair of her mound. Through the thickening white haze spreading in her brain she noticed the start of that certain itch, that deep itch best seen to by another person. She pondered scratching that itch. Before she could reach her conclusion, Gamzee started to speak.

you all up be knowing what the goo is between an elephant's toes?

What have you been watching? No, I've not a clue.

SLOW CLOWNS.

The punchline erupted from him a shot from a rifle. Taken by surprise, She laughed her way backwards onto the couch, one hand over her mouth and the other holding her sides. Smiling at her laughter, Gamzee stood up and made his way around the couch to where he left his bong. He tapped the ash out against the side of the table, spilling it over the carpet without a second thought, and set about packing himself a fresh bowl.

God, that was just awful.

Once her laughing stopped, Jane regarded him with a soft smile. She rubbed her thighs together, but decided to let the itch build up a little bit longer.

Take that silly hat off. I want to play with your hair.

Not even pausing, Gamzee obediently set his bong down and unbuttoned the horn flaps of his purple clown hat. With a clumsy flourish he pulled it off, its cape-strips billowed like streamers and his long, shaggy hair spilled out from his head. He tosses his hat aside, and picks his bong back up. While he lights it, Jane sinks her fingers into his tangled black locks. 

Have you ever washed this so much as once in your entire life?

She moved her fingers cautiously through the greasy follicles, to not yank too hard with each matted knot she finds. His only reply is the bubble of water as he draws the smoke out, then a long, sharp breath to suck the smoke into his lungs. Still holding it in, he placed the glass tube back on the table, and tapped Jane on the forearm.

What is it?

She pulled her hands back from his hair. He turned around and pushed his mouth towards hers. Seeing his intent, Jane parted her lips and met him in a kiss. He blew the smoke into her and she breathed deeply of his lungs' bounty. They parted, and Gamzee smiled.

better than sopor.

He falls silent without elaborating. From what little she had picked up, Sopor seemed to Jane to have more in common with morphine than any recreational drug. Other than that, all she knew was Gamzee used to be addicted, and when he quit it wasn't pretty. Gamzee seldom braved to talk about himself, or why his fellows wanted nothing to do with him. For her peace of mind, Jane figured she was best not knowing how those bodies ended up in that fridge.

So hey, this guy's getting his house repainted, and he has this piano in the corner. The painter asks 'Is that y'all's piano?' So the guy says 'No, that's our coffee table; it just has buck teeth.'

She didn't think the joke was _that_ funny, yet his laughter rang loud enough that her neighbors would complain, if she had any. The heights of the corporate escheladder had many conveniences like that, for all the trouble it took to stay there. Jane sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. She paid no attention to the sound of more Faygo being slurped from the bowl, and turned her attentions inward. It was fog, white and thick that grew thicker with every breath. It crept in through the corners of her skull and seeped into the cracks of the mind. It reduced the world to vague shapes, and you had to get right up close to a thought to pay any real attention to it. There was an odd burning at the back. She couldn't remember what part of the brain that was, but the burning wasn't unpleasant. Though it was a fire sitting a bit too close, and sometimes it itched. Jane frowned. Examining the high created an odd friction along the seam of the two hemispheres, almost as if to discourage thinking about one's thinking. She shook her head and dismissed the slightly paranoid thought.

You hungry?

She looked around for Gamzee, and found him rubbing his thumb over the ingredients on a Faygo bottle's label. Trying to erase the miracle of their make, perhaps.

i could certainly do with an eating of a motherfucking thing.

Good, because I'm famished. Hang on, I'll bake something real quick. Won't be a sec.

 

Rising from the couch, Jane made her way towards the kitchen. 

Oh shoot, the goat.

She took a slight detour to the other room. The sliding door stood open to the night air, and the little decorative mustache that she'd hung from the handle showed signs of being chewed. She slid the door closed and latched it shut, then turned to leave. A picture on the mantlepiece caught her eye, a family photo of her and her Dad. She walked barefoot across the polished wood floor and touched the frame.

Hey, Dad, remember that time you filled the house with gaudy comedian portraits? Well now I got my own funnyman in a clown suit hanging around.

A glint of light on glass caused her to turn to the picture next to it.

No, you shut up Poppop. Now's not the time for your racially insensitive old-timey humor. Your mother was a troll, you can't talk. No that's NOT a free pass to be even more racist. Get with the times you fuddy-duddy geezer.

With a huff, she stormed, naked from the room, then burst out laughing. 

I really need to stop having naked arguments with family photos. If Meenah finds out she'll try to have me locked up in an asylum. Or sent to a private estate for her to hunt down at her leisure. God, why is she such a bitch? Oh, right, food.

 

Upon finally making it to the kitchen, Jane flicked the oven to four hundred degrees and flung open the cupboard.

Let's see, something quick, something scrumptious, and not too heavy on the stomach. Ah, here we go.

From the many boxes of Crocker products she pulled out a packet of cookie mix. A bowl, some milk, and two eggs later, she set the mixer for five minutes.

While she leaned on the bench, watching the mix go round, Jane felt a pair of hands cup her breasts and gently squeeze. Something hard and completely devoid of the codpiece's fuzziness poked the cleft of her ass. The feel of his touch and the sound of Gamzee's breathing immediately became the sole focus of her fogged up senses.

knock knock.

Who's there?

ivanna.

Ivanna who?

ivanna bust a globe in your ass real motherfucking bad.

She giggled, and spread her legs further apart where she stood, her behind put prominently on display.

Well, you'd better come in then.

He penetrated her without ceremony, and Jane winced a little at the sharp discomfort of it. He quickly broke into a hasty rhythm. He held her heavy breasts firmly for balance, and that caused his palms to rub back and forth across her stiff nipples with each frantic thrust. Jane let her mind wander without focus over each little thing that drew notice; the fuzzy tips of his clurly shoes against her ankles, the wet sound of his cock sliding into her pussy, the feel of his cool hands against her warm breasts, the way his hips rub against her ass cheeks, their labored breathing that mingled in her ears.

MOTHERFUCK.

With a yell, Gamzee buried himself deep in her pussy and held himself there. His genetic fluid shot inside her, hot, unlike his body that was rarely more than slightly cool. He came inside her until the purple fluid ran past his dick and down her thigh, then slid out of her. His dick glistened in the light with their juices. Jane frowned and pushed back into him, grinding her pussy against his groin.

now that was a full motherfucking miracle in itself.

For you, maybe. That was way too quick. I didn't have time to finish at all.

aww, is that the real motherfucking truth? i'm sorry. you're just so motherfucking incredible i can't help it. hang on just a right single moment, i'll make it right the motherfuck up to you.

Jane turned, and crossed her arms over her chest. He dipped his finger between her thighs, wiping off some of the juices smeared across her inflamed lips. He raised his finger to his face and smudged a curled line above his lip, first one side, then the other.

care for a mustache ride, arlecchina?

He waggled his eyebrows. Jane's frown dissipated.

Now that's more like it.

She leaned back on her elbows against the kitchen counter and parted her thighs. Gamzee dropped to his knees, bringing his eyes level with the dark ringlets of her pubes. He ran his fingers through her bush in gentle reverence, then parted her plump lips with his hands. His breath against her exposed pussy made Jane shiver with anticipation. He lapped up a trickle of his own cum that had gathered by her opening, and Jane bit her lip. His tongue dug deeper, dragging against her inner walls and scraping his own genetic fluid into his mouth. he ran his hands up her thighs and turned his tongue's attention to her hard nub above. He teased her clit back and forth, swirling his tongue around and around in chaotic, unreasonable patterns impossible to predict, then drew it into his mouth as sucked on her button like a jellybean. Jane cried out, unable to hold her voice back, and her legs trembled to keep standing. Gamzee returned a hand to her snatch and plunged two fingers in, pumping them out of time with his oral ministrations. The wet sounds of his digits in her slicked pussy mingled with his slurping of her clit in a moist cacophony that drowned out Jane's thoughts and forced all her attention be spent on just remembering to breathe. Through the fog, a flashfire sparked in Jane's mind and accelerated through her body, coiling around its muscles as it went. When it found the gunpowder in her cunt it burrowed to her core and her whole body erupted.Jane flung her head back, deaf to whatever sound she made, and her whole body lost cohesion. She flew, she fell, she soared, she plummeted a flaming wreck from on high and turned the beach into glass.

Once the laws of time and space were ready to be perceived again, the first thing Jane noticed was his finger in her mouth. Gamzee brushed his thumb against her prominent front teeth, then moved it to pull down her lower lip. On primordial reflex she sucked the digit into her mouth, and tasted herself on his skin. The flavor grounded her, and around that sensation she reversed the unraveling she had undergone. She had a face, and it was pressed sideways against Gamzee's chest. She had two arms, both hugging him around the neck, and two legs, with a hot rawness between them and the cool kitchen tiles against her toes. She had ears, burning with blood, and a torso that expanded then contracted with every deep breath.

feel better, arlecchina?

It probably is just the dope, but I do think I just had a religious experience. So, I'd say yes. Very good job.

With a languid turn of her head, she found Gamzee's face and brought them into a kiss. His mouth tasted of pot smoke and sugary residue. The troll's face shifted to a broad smile. 

motherfucking miracles.

 

A spanless stroll of time later, the pair returned to the couch, a bowl of fresh vanilla cookies gained. They sat, naked save Gamzee's shoes, on either end of the couch, their legs woven together and the cookie bowl resting in the nest of limbs. Jane puffed on a fresh pipe between bites of baked goodness, and paid no attention to the accumulating crumbs on her breasts and stomach. A different show had taken up the television, but the fog had grown too thick to discern what it was. She deduced it was about some upper middle class people who waste time together, but other than that it could have been anything. She smiled, still tingling from her orgasm, and looked to her pipe.

ou should be proud of yourself, Gamzee. You deserve an award. Not this one, obviously. This one belongs to me. But some other one. Some other lesser award.

Jane took a drag on her pipe, turned, and saw Gamzee regarding her face with a look of profound contemplation in his yellow-swimming eyes.

What is it mister funny man?

i think,

He took a break to devour another cookie, his eyes never leaving her face as he chewed. Once he was done he wiped a greasy palm across his mouth.

i want to paint you.

What? Like a portrait?

nah, my big titted ninja, i mean that motherfuck of a miracle that is your human face.

My face?

She took a deep draw of her pipe and knitted her brow. Through the fog, she tried to piece together a thought. This could be some significant initiation of some sort, or just a meaningless whim.

Sure, why not.

She finished the last of her pipe and placed it on the table with care, then sat up cross legged on the couch, facing the troll.

Where do you want me?

right there will be just the motherfuck fine, sister.

He sat up and clasped his hands in a prayer. With his eyes closed and body still, the capricorn appeared almost serene. 

His box of paints fired from his miracle modus, and his long, gray arm snapped out to pluck it from the air. With the box secured, he started at it with slack-jawed wonder, like he hadn't even noticed himself catch it at all. 

alright then, sister. let's see if this motherfucker can't bring out the whole arlecchina what be in your pretty motherfuck face./span>

He scooted forward until his knees touched hers, and flipped the box open. Inside, the paints were stored in simple flip-top cases. He flipped open the light grey first, and scooped a portion out with two fingers. Jane took her glasses off, closed her eyes and concentrated on sitting still. The first smear of cold paint came upon her cheek, and she let out a deep breath. With firm strokes he applied the makeup, smearing it evenly across her skin to form the base layer. The rest of her body faded into stillness, and Jane's whole being became focused into her face; the weight of the paint, the pressure of his fingers, the air against her exposed skin that gradually became less and less. With her eyes closed, she had no way to tell what color each smear was, but as he finished with each layer he wiped the remaining paint on his fingers against the sides of her breasts, and through that sudden, periodic awareness of her body she measured his progress.Most of his efforts seemed focused around her eyes, his fingers digging into the bony edges of her eye sockets to rub the paint in. Her blind awareness drifted from touch to touch as his fingers told her the shape of her own face. When he finally finished, she drifted for many moments more until the absence finally drew her attention to open her eyes. Gamzee regarded her, looking pleased and nodding in approval. 

So, how do I look?

motherfucking righteous is what.

He held up the box of paints and lifted it open, showing her the mirror inside the lid.

Around her eyes was was the round, black shape of a domino mask.From the edge of the mask around her left eye emerged a gray pattern that resembled the wing of a bird. Below her right eye was the shape of two white tear drops, and all the rest of her face and lips were a uniform grey. Her blue eyes shone brightly from beneath the 'mask', and without her glasses her own reflection looked like something out of a dream.

Too awe-struck for words, Jane simply put the box down and stared at Gamzee, and his own white-painted face. He held Jane by the shoulders and pulled her into a greedy kiss, his painted lips crushing hers. After parting, he moved his lips to her ear and growled.

BLESSED. motherfucking. ARLECCHINA.

With an amused giggle Jane laid back against the couch, wrapping her thick legs around Gamzee's midsection.Her body still bore enough embers to stoke herself against.

Ready for another performance mister miracle worker?

She reached down and wrapped her smooth fingers around his cock where it lay flat against her belly. With relaxed, gentle strokes she brought the troll back to hardness. He nodded in sage approval, and cupped her breasts in his large hands. He pinched her nipples between his sticky fingers and tugged, just short enough to elicit a quiet gasp from her mouth. Jane rubbed his dick down past her belly, and wiped it back and forth across the length of her moistening pussy before easing the head into her snug hole. He led his fingers from her breasts down her sides in erratic, quarter-curve paths, over the horizons of her hips down to her generous rump. From his anchor point Gamzee pulled himself into her. His dick's length steadily disappeared into her plump pussy until his dark tangle of pubes mingled with her curly bush. Jane cooed contently, rocking her hips back and forth around the insertion stretching her.

His hands still groping her bountiful derriere, Gamzee leaned forward, moving his mouth to one of her heavy breasts. With uncanny precision the capricorn lined his pointed teeth up with the ring of her aureole and gradually pressed down. Jane let out a shivering hiss and threw her arms around his back in a tight embrace. Turning her head, she kissed one of the tricolor horns now parallel with her neck. Gently, Gamzee closed his mouth, dragging the points of his teeth across her breast's halo to poke at her hard nipple and tease it with his tongue. Jane let herself melt into the relaxed drug-fucking. The pot-fog in her brain loosed her mind, while the bard's hands fondled and kneaded her ass, his mouth toyed with her breast, and she rocked her hips around his cock to scratch that deep itch wherever it turned. She breathed in deep sighs and sharp, voiceless gasps, happy and at ease. Though the tension was building up between her thighs, it was a steady, gradual coiling, without the bite of desperate need that sometimes ran rampant when they fucked. There was no rush, and she liked that. 

When her breast started to get sore from his attentions she kissed his matted crown and nudged him to one side. Taking unconscious care not to bump her with his horns Gamzee shifted to her other breast and Jane hummed with deep satisfaction. She could smell their sweat, his and hers, though his dominated the flavor by far. Their movements were slight enough to make only the barest squish where their bodies connected, but the couch creaked and groaned in mild protest of their rocking. Jane closed her eyes and imagined them on a boat, moored in some far off harbor and trapped by a violent storm. She'd be the young heiress of a trading company, and he some wild man she found in Singapore. She clenched her pussy tighter as the wake-dream filled her mind. Their drug is not hashish but opium, and they were meant to trade for exotic fruit and spices on an island in the Caribbean, only to find the placed wracked and deserted from the storms. Now they did what they could to make the current storm's passing come easier, finding warmth and comfort in other deep in the cargo holds.

Jane's voice escaped her halfway through a moan as she climaxed, too lost in daydream to prepare herself. She held Gamzee tight and babbled about storms in his ear as tremors wracked her body and all her tensions melted into heat. He pulled her down further along the couch so she lay completely flat and took over. Her hands still around his back, he fucked her with deep, long thrusts, fucking her clear through her orgasm. Unrestrained, her breasts swung back and forth across her chest, bounced by their movements. With a honkish grunt Gamzee plunged all the way into her depths, splashing her pussy with highblood seed. He pulled out before he finished, and ropes of purple cum fell upon her body; matting her curly pubes, dripping down her breasts, and pooling in her navel. His strings were abruptly cut, and Gamzee collapsed by Jane's side. The pair in a panting, drug-addled heap on the couch, still shivering and trembling. Once she'd recovered enough to move, Jane rolled over and pulled Gamzee into a tight embrace, mashing her breasts into his chest and smearing his fluids over both of them.

Hey,

you got some fine thing to voice, arlecchina?

How can you tell if an elephant has been in your refrigerator?

motherfuck, how can you all up and tell?

Footprints in the cheesecake.


End file.
